


Voyeur

by sushifish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel (Supernatural)/Female Reader, Dean Likes to Watch, F/M, Masturbation, Not Destiel, Not a threesome either, Orgasm, Peeping, Shameless Smut, Some light dom!cas, Sorry Not Sorry, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, sorryyy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushifish/pseuds/sushifish
Summary: In Dean's defense, he came to your room with purely innocent intentions. Really, he did. But, I mean, now that he's there...
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural) & You, Castiel (Supernatural)/You, Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 21
Kudos: 109





	Voyeur

Dean has done a lot of things he shouldn’t have. He has murdered, tortured, lied, cheated, hurt. He has done it all, but this takes the cake.

In his defense, this really wasn’t his intention. Well, not exactly. It’s true that he maybe did take the long way to the library – the way he doesn’t normally take – because he knew it would take him past your bedroom. He was supposed to be out with Sam but had opted instead to stay behind, not really feeling up to braving the throes of housewives at the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon. But, to be fair, he thought you would be alone in your room and his intention was to see if you wanted to catch the monster movie marathon he’d just found on tv. Really, that’s it.

When he gets to your room, the door is just slightly ajar. He can hear your voice from inside, which catches him off guard, but it’s the voice that responds that sends his stomach plummeting straight to his feet. He knows he shouldn’t look through the gap between the door and the frame from where you’d left it ajar, but something wills him to do it anyway.

You’re standing with your back to him, in a state of undress that makes his breath hitch in his throat and makes him shift his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. You’re rummaging through your dresser for something to put on and your wet hair tells him you just got out of the shower. His eyes follow the way it falls down your bare back, over the clasp and band of your bra. Drops of water trail a tantalizing path over the dip of your lower back, either dying on the fabric of your panties or, if they were lucky, caressing the curve of your ass before they met their end on the wooden floor. He lets his eyes linger just a little too long on the swell of your rear as he watches them fall. On your bed in the middle of the room sits Cas, his trenchcoat and suit jacket draped across a chair in the corner. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and he looks, well, actually surprisingly comfortable, which is what gets Dean the most.

You move easily under his gaze, which is appreciative without being predatory, and Dean can tell he’s seen you like this a thousand times before. You’re talking about something that barely even registers with him until Cas asks about where he and Sam are. He can see the corners of your mouth turn upward as you turn away from the dresser to face Cas, your lower back pressing against the wood.

“Why?” You ask, the playful glint in your eye nearly blinding. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“That- that’s not… what I meant…” Cas stumbles and it almost gives Dean relief to see the awkward Cas that he knows. But it all goes out the window when he adds, “But if Sam and Dean are gone…”

He smirks even through his blush and Dean wonders at how endearing you seem to find it. Your light laugh tears him from his reverie and he watches you walk toward Cas. “They are,” you confirm and that seems to be all the encouragement Cas needs.

He reaches for you when you’re within arm’s reach, pulling you into his lap and crashing his lips to yours. Dean knows he should look away – or, better yet, keep walking – but something keeps his feet in place.

He watches as your fingers move to loosen Cas' tie, your kiss breaking just long enough for you to pull it over his head and toss it to the ground. Dean’s own fingers grip the neck of his beer bottle even tighter as he tries to ignore the steady tightening in his pants. His brain is screaming at him to keep walking, and lord knows he tries. He really does. But he’s just turned away when he hears your voice again and it stops him in his tracks. Thick with lust, you all but whisper, “Take off your clothes.”

He has to swallow hard to fight the groan rising in his throat. How many times had he imagined being in that situation with you? How many times had he imagined pressing his lips to your neck, hearing you moan his name as your hands wandered lower and lower until they were finally where he wanted them most? He’d spent so many shameful nights wondering how you would feel below him, on top of him. So much frustration vented in motel showers as he took himself in his own hand, wishing it was yours instead. There were countless hours lost to fantasies of you kneeling before him, seeing your pretty eyes looking up at him as you moved your mouth against him. He’d only imagined the way you sounded, looked, tasted in the throes of passion, and here he was, the closest he’d ever been and closer than he would ever get again. He knew he should go but damn, he didn’t want to. So he didn’t.

It’s your sharp intake of breath that draws him back in again and he’s been in that position enough times himself to know exactly what drew such a beautiful sound from you. When he dares to look back through the opening again, he sees Cas lying beside you, his head buried in your neck as he supports his weight on one arm. The other has disappeared beneath the blankets and Dean knows all too well where his hand has gone. A groan builds in his throat and he has to swallow hard to stifle it, his mind running wild with the need to know how warm and wet you are, how slick and soft you felt when his friend slid his finger in, and then another, and then – _god_ , he wondered if you took a third too?

Your bra had disappeared at some point when he’d looked away and Dean is all but mesmerized at the sight of your breasts, two full, smooth peaks tipped by the cutest pink nipples he’d ever seen. Cas dips his head to take one in his mouth and Dean’s own mouth waters at the thought of how it would feel on his tongue. A moan escapes you and he grows impossibly harder, still painfully caged by his jeans. Cas’ lips trail up the side of your neck and Dean watches as your lips part when you let out a contented sigh, chest heaving beautifully.

“Always so tight,” he can barely hear Cas murmur against your skin. "So needy.” You can only whine in response and Dean is surprised when Cas smirks. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” is your breathless reply, a confession that sends waves of pleasure just below Dean’s belt. It’s almost unconscious when his hand moves to the outside of his jeans, palming himself through the rough denim.

Cas pulls his hand from under the covers with deliberate slowness and you groan at the loss of stimulation as his fingers brush over the nipple of your other breast instead. He runs the pad of his thumb over the hardened peak once, twice, just enough to tease before moving his hand to fling the blankets off of you instead. Dean barely has time to register how gorgeous you look like that, laid bare with your skin flushed pink with need, before Cas shifts onto his back and grips your hips to pull you on top of him. Dean’s jaw goes slack when you lean forward to catch Cas’ lips with your own, the head of him brushing against your entrance. The angle has you spread open to him just enough so he can see how swollen and wet you are, see exactly what the angel is going to be able to sheath himself inside. Dean longs to run his tongue along your center, to taste your arousal on his tongue. God, he would give anything to be able to plunge his tongue inside of you, to feel you fist his hair and clamp your thighs around his ears as he brings you to the breaking point over and over again. He wants his name to tumble off your tongue until it’s the only thing you can remember outside of the overwhelming pleasure wracking your body. His palm moves harder, faster against his throbbing erection instead.

Cas moves his hand between you to position himself fully at your entrance, the head of his cock moving in tiny circles against you as he works you open so slowly it’s almost painful to watch. Dean’s eyes are fixed as you take Cas’ length inside of you inch by inch, moaning as you slide down his shaft until he’s completely inside of you. Your body shudders at the feel of him and Dean is convinced it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Slowly,” Cas instructs you, once again shocking Dean with how authoritative he is. His hands move to your hips as he guides you up his length, the pace absolutely torturous. “I want to _tear_ that orgasm from you.”

Dean swears a _fuck_ under his breath at the same time you moan loudly enough to cover it, drawing Cas back inside of you. Though you’re on top it’s clear that Cas is in control and he takes you slowly, deliberately. Dean wonders if he would do the same. He has never been one to draw things out but in that moment he wants nothing more than to savor you the way the angel gets to. It’s clear the pace is absolutely maddening for you, fingernails digging ten tiny crescents into Cas’ chest as you slide up and down his impossibly hard length.

Dean is acutely aware of his own aching need, throbbing mercilessly behind the zipper of his jeans. It’s become too much; he needs contact. He plunges his hand into his pants and stifles a moan, fingers closing around himself in a way that he only wishes could mimic the way you would feel. He’s so turned on he could practically cum just from the initial contact, his nerves hypersensitive under the callouses of his hands. But he won’t let himself; he needs to see you come undone first.

He tries to match your pace, his brain running wild trying to imagine how it would feel to take you this slowly, to savor the feel of you riding his throbbing cock. He knows your sex has to be pulsing with need, aching for that sweet release just like he is. Vaguely he wonders if Castiel feels the same.

One of the angel’s hands moves from your hip to your center and Dean can tell by the moan that rips from your throat that Cas is tracing delicious circles around your clit with his thumb. Dean’s grip on his cock tightens as he fucks into his hand, sweat beading on his forehead from the sheer effort it takes not to cum, not to cry out your name, not to tear into the room and bend you forward, sliding his rock hard length into you.

“You’re close,” Cas confirms, eliciting your breathless _yes_ in response. It almost comes out as a sob and Dean’s head runs wild with how badly you want it.

“Ask,” Cas commands, his own voice thick with arousal. He’s close too, Dean can tell, and he wonders at the self-control it must take to last that long with you riding him that way. “Ask for what you want.”

“Please,” you whimper, brows knit together tightly. “God, Cas, I’m _so_ _close_.”

Dean bites his knuckles to stifle the noise that threatens to escape him. Cas doesn’t have that hindrance and he groans as both hands come to grip your hips again, fingers digging sharply into your soft skin as he guides you to a quicker pace. His hips rise so he can thrust into you hard as you slam yourself back down on him, your cries piercing the air and traveling straight between Dean’s thighs. He fucks roughly into his hand as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement and _god_ , what he wouldn’t give to be able to see that from Cas’ point of view.

“Cas, I’m-“

“Ask,” Cas groans again through clenched teeth. Dean swears he’ll cum the second he hears you beg for release again, but what leaves your mouth is so much worse.

“ _Please,_ I- oh god, _Cas!_ ” You all but beg, desperation dripping from your voice the way Dean knows your juices are dripping down Cas’ cock. Your plea dies on your lips as waves of pleasure roll over you, your body shaking with the release. Dean can only imagine how hard your body is spasming around Cas’ cock, squeezing him impossibly tightly in the sweetest way. He’s so near the edge he can practically taste it when you cry out, “Please Cas, cum for me!”

Dean groans without even bothering to stifle it, thankful that Cas is loud enough to conceal the sound. He forces his eyes to stay open as he watches you ride out the remainder of your orgasm on Cas’ cock as it pulses, shooting load after load of hot, sticky cum deep inside of you. Dean imagines what it would feel like to pour himself into you, to have you _ask_ for it the way you asked Cas, to mark you as his in the most primal way possible. You moan again and the confirmation that you _like_ it is enough to send Dean careening over the edge, biting his knuckles hard enough to draw blood as he thrusts into his hand, jets of cum spilling over his fingers. He cums harder than he ever has, his knees going weak and his legs barely strong enough to support him.

His vision is clouded with stars as his mind races with the thought of spilling himself into you. He wants to see your pretty face as you look up at him and swallow everything he gives you, cum leaking from the sides of your mouth as your lips clamp around his cock. He wants to feel your sweat-slicked skin, to feel the hardened peaks of your breasts brush against his chest as they move when you ride him like you’d done Cas. He wants to run his thumb over the sensitive buds, to take them between his teeth as he presses his mouth against you, to hear you gasp and moan at the contact. He wants to bend you over the side of the bed and take you, watching your reflection in the mirror so he can see your breasts pressed hard against the mattress, watch your face contort in pleasure as he slams into you from behind. He wants to leave kisses and bite marks across your thighs, a testament to the salacious pathway he took to your core, where he plunged his tongue into you again and again until you screamed his name. He wants to feel the soft curve of your ass in his hand, to squeeze it hard and rest his hands on your hips to help set your pace. He wants you to gasp at the length of him, to reach into his pants and take him throbbing in your hand. He wants you to stroke him until he begged for more, wants to feel your thumb across the tip of him, gathering his precum on your finger before drawing it between your lips and sucking it off. He wants to watch you run your tongue down the length of him, to feel you flick it teasingly across his tip, to groan as you finally take him fully into your mouth. He wants to hear you moan his name when he pushes into you, warm and wet and needy, to feel you tight around him as he takes you and makes you his. His breath comes in hard pants as he fists himself to the end of his orgasm, realization crashing into him like a wave – He just wants you.

Dean wipes his hand on his shirt before pulling it over his head and using it to clean the mess he’d made. Beer bottle still in hand and his soiled shirt slung over his shoulder, Dean checks once to make sure he’s still gone unnoticed. You’ve collapsed next to Cas on the bed, both bodies slick with sweat as you hook one leg over Cas’ and he pulls you close to his side, pressing a kiss to your hair. He murmurs something and Dean watches your eyes close as you press a kiss against Cas’ neck. Somehow, he feels more shame watching this than anything else. So he turns to leave, feet padding softly down the hallway back to his room.

Because you aren’t his, and that’s the end of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot based off of a full-length fic I'll probably never finish.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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